I was out running in the forest this morning and at the end of the last technical section before the road I sprained my right (“good”) ankle. Badly. A cracking sound, immediate pain from hell and I knew this can’t be good.
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When you’re out running for 6+ hours a day for six days, you’ve got a lot of time to think. Well, actually, a lot of my time spent running the Haute Route I didn’t think about much at all. My mind was blank and a majority of the time my only focus was on setting one foot in front of the other. But there were also times when my mind was more active than others — especially when I was suffering because of the heat or lack of food or just because my body was exhausted from the long days.
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After quite a long time of not being particularly motivated to run, often feeling sluggish and tired and asking myself why I’m even doing this — it finally feels like the light switch has suddenly been turned on again. I feel like I could continue running forever, my body feels strong and my mind is calm. That feeling of flow is real. Every run is a celebration of life.
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I think I knew already back in March, as I was sitting by the airport gate in Stockholm, that it was somehow the start of a new chapter in my life. I arrived in Germany literally just before all the craziness with corona started. My boyfriend Jost had arrived from Nepal the night before. Perfect timing. I had only planned to stay for one month, but I ended up staying three.
Read MoreThe year was 2014. It was January and the running conditions couldn’t have been any worse. My sisters had just begun their training for their first 50k, and I decided to tag along for their weekly running sessions.
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